I got these shakes and bad breath.

My mouth taste horrible and I even brushed my teeth last night! I feel hard done by. I mean not overly hard done by I'm not going to email Oxfam and tell them about my situation and ask if there is anything they can do to help, I doubt they would have much interest. I could phone up the red cross but despite us communicating orally I doubt they would truly understand the stench of my breath this morning. Plus I'm sure they have bigger problems to deal with this morning, as do I.

My search for gainful employment or 'fantastic opportunities' continues in earnest. So far I'm writing a short story for a magazine that I hope hasn't already been published. I'll let a little secret go here, I've never actually managed to finish a short story, they always get to about a thousand words and I read them through, decide they are going no where and jettison them. This one though I feel has potential, it's about a a man who leaves his home and sleeps at the side of the motorway because he's too scared to do anything else. Reading it back this morning it's a little bit pretentious but so long as I can make it a complete story with a real ending and everything I'll be happy. Endings are hard though, beginnings are easy, you always do beginnings, without even thinking about it. Waking up is much easier than getting to sleep. Endings are something you have to build up to and they have to explain things and order them in a logical manner. Life isn't really like that though, everything isn't neatly tied up by a few pages at the end it just jaunts along until you die. That's kind of mentioned in the story to. Maybe I should not even give it an ending, but then it Isn't much of a story, just a collection of sentence rudely knocking into each other and muttering corresponding apologies like their trying to get on and off a train at the same time. ah we shall see what happens. I'll post it on here probably when it's finished.
Right well that's artistic annex out of the way. Actually I hate it when people without justification refer to themselves as artists but that's a whole other rant for a whole other time. Right now I'm focused on looking at gap year 'opportunities', it's always opportunities with these people, it sounds so sickeningly optimistic to me. It's a sales word like 'exciting' or 'challenging'. Who in their right minds would say 'I found myself challenged but I was excited by the opportunity.' They sound like a robot, if I ran a company I wouldn't hire anyone who used words like that. As I've been scraping deeper into the jobs market it's become quite apparent that the things that abhor me nestle in almost every vacancy advert I read. They send shivers down my spine when I realize just how unsuited I am to these things. I don't use words like 'motivated' or 'passionate' these are sales words, as words are meaningless, they aren't language, they are noises uttered by liars and con-men. They to the 'jobs market' what words like offside and corner are to football. They enforce the rules, you have to be passionate and motivated to do well in so and so job. Most people aren't passionate about their jobs and if I were a boss I'd find it insulting if people said they were, I'd say they weren't human. As words they communicate nothingness in insipid adverts for logistical support officers or sales executive. They might as well ask can you lie? Have you given up hope? Yes? Then come on board and fuck with people to make us money. That may be a little over dramatic but it's just how I feel. Well it was up until today!
As I was clicking through a year abroad site called GAPFORCE! I came across something which may have changed my entire opinion. Now calling your organization GAPFORCE is pretty ballsy I mean it verges on being tacky but just listen to the power in it. Urgh GAPFORCE! The gap year company for men! (yes think of it in the powerthirst voice). It reminds me of MANTAFORCE which I used to play with as a kid. Pretty awesome. So I was going through the site and came across a program they offer to do a year abroad in Australlia with full time employment, your own little room and all the trimmings. If I didn't hate Australlia so much I would have been tempted. I clicked on it anyway and found a list of what the program offered:

What's Included - Summary ?

- Before you fly: Open Day and Full Briefing Pack.

- Ozforce staff on arrival

- Full Introduction Week (see below, then select your job for more details).

- We include: Certified Training course

- Setting you up with a job

- 7 nights accommodation

- Meals as listed - plus BBQ

- Sort our Medicare, bank account and sim card..

- Great pay!

- Full emergency backup

- Airport collection

- Welcome briefing

- BBQ

- Reunion party. Plus free t -shirt!

First things first; Ozforce Staff! Ozforce! That's pretty amazing it sounds like your going to be greeted from the plane by an army of powerful Australian action heroes, like X-men down under. As far as I know Australia only has one superhero and that's Mic Dundee, who else are they hiding? I suppose the question really is is the Sydney Opera House actually a Transformer? I can only assume once you have disembarked the plane and cleared customs this Ozforce take you to the top of Ayers rock wher you have your first BBQ.

Now I'm not one for trying to reinforce stereotypes but mentioning what I assume is the same BBQ not once but twice on the same list seems to compound my view of Australians. The second time it's not even qualified by anything else, it's just BBQ for no reason! Just yeh welcome, random BBQ at some point in time and then a party sub BBQ with a free tshirt! Free tshirt! You're trying to sell me a gap year program on the strength of a free tshirt. Doesn't even say what kind of tshirt.

I'm being facetious of course if I was to follow it logically it seems that immediately after I land there is a BBQ ready and waiting. If I were to look into stereotypes even more I might assume that the 'Welcome Briefing' consists merely of man named Steve dressed all in khaki with white sun cream under his eyes saying 'g'day, barbies this way, we got shrimp and a wallaby, watch out for that spider it'll kill ya in 4 seconds flat' Then later at the bar I'll hear him talking to his friends about the bloody pasty pommies he had to do a BBQ for which will just be miserable. Still the excitement they have about this BBQ, it's kind of tempting, I might apply just to see what the fuss is about.

On a side note; I never really understood what excites people so much about BBQ's. I mean I like BBQ's as much as the next man, I remember my dad used to cook some amazing burgers when I was young, they were always the perfect colour, never burned, always that kind of succulent browny grey. Since then though I've come to understand there is something unbelievably marvelous about a BBQ. It's usually used as a break the ice affair and whatever function you're attending. I remember when I first got to America on my year abroad they had a welcoming BBQ which was one of the most excruciating affairs I have ever attended. There were many nationalities there but the Germans, the English and admittedly to my surprise the Egyptians all took to one side and bounded through their mutual embarrassment of American over familiarity. Americans don't do well with awkwardness, it doesn't fit their fulfilled and happy all the time land of the free mentality. Of course sometimes this is a great thing and leads to things actually being done but for me there's nothing I love more than standing around moaning about things with people of a similar disposition. You may think this makes me a miserable person but misery kind of makes me happy, I enjoy the flaws in things. I think the Germans do as well, I've never met a German who I haven't got along with, I love their backhanded compliments/insults and despite what most people say from my experience they have a great sense of humour. Anyway this BBQ ended for me the same way it was always going to end when you put English men and German men together, we tried to resist it, we tried to talk to professors and other students about the cultural diversity of everyone and how excited we were to be in a new country ready to start a great adventure, we really did give that horseshit our best shot but then the inevitable happened, somebody got out a football.

I suppose that's an ending of sorts, for those who are interested the resulting match ended in England loosing to the Rest of The World 7-5. It was one of the most enjoyable games of football I've ever played and I'm still friends with the people who played. So I suppose the conclusion is I've never made any friends at BBQ's but I have playing football. It's not much of a conclusion but hey this isn't much of a blog yet I find it challenging and am passionate about being involved in it.

The Stagnent Project (Part2)

First off I'm going to tie up the tale I started telling yesterday....

If we all remember our hero and my housemate James had just been kicked out of Franks Bar for trying to destroy a gate. In an act of defiance and becase I knew it would anger James I made sure to shake the bouncers hand and thank him for dealing with James as I left the bar. Yep I'm an awful friend.
So there we were standing in the street wondering what to do next. Ian mentioned that his girlfriend was in Havanas which is Norwich's premiere opium den style hell hole. It's the only real place open till 4am so by about 1 it is crammed with the filth left standing. It's got a scummy feeling to it from the moment you walk it. This probably caused by the fact you have to squeeze down a long white corridor with the fiery redness and ghoulish hubbub of the club the only thing in front of you. Once inside you immediately notice the large satin draped beds set up along one of the walls. I've seen many things on these bed once there was a tramp having a quiet doze, another time there was what I can only describe as an orgy, which is kind of awkward when you're just trying to get upstairs for a cig. There are regularly people getting handjobs or whatever on them, the whole corner reeks of spunk and misery. You have to be in certain disposition to go to Havanas, if you're with a lot of friends, feel the need to drink until dawn and are ready for the potential of sketchy arseholes giving you grief every few minutes then it's for you.
Fortunately as we walked up the street to the entrance the queue was monolithic so I was spared another evening of horror in Havanas. We rounded up Ian girlfriend, sang Sam Russo songs to the queue and decided to go back to mine and finish the bottle of whiskey James had. Of course as the others got in the taxi I still had my bike locked up at the Wildman meaning I had to cycle home, confused and drunk.
I've lived in Norwich for about three or four years, I know the city well, somehow though I managed to get completely lost and even forgot where it was going. To the point that I ended up just doing circles around the road and spinning my head like an over active meerkat wondering what the hell was going on. Eventually I figured it out and made it home.
Once home me and James were in an excitable mood, we whipped on the stereo and started running around my lounge because we wish we were still sixteen. It was at this point sofa crowd surfing began. There is nothing I can say I'm proud of about this. Three men taking it in turns to catch each other and run around isn't exactly the elegant thing you will ever see. Of course something was going to get broken as our mothers had always warned us...as I jumped off the sofa arm towards the TV I smashed into the floor sending the xbox crashing from its perch and landing with a harrowing crack. I haven't tried to turn it on since but I think it might well have had its day. From this obvious highpoint me and James decided to run down the street singing The Hold Steady at 4am because we're pieces of shit. After that James vomited a lot and I went to bed.
Oh the glory.

This Project is Stagnant (Get It Out Of My Face)

Well good day from a temperate West Malling in gods own county of Kent and in no way is that depressing. I got back here on Saturday and within a few hours I was crying. That's a sad admission but this is really quite a depressing thing for me. On firday me and my housemate went for a little farewell drink with a few friends. A little drink soon turned into double vodkas and tequila shots which began to take hold of the course of the evening. It was all going absolutely fine until Ollie Juggs said we should go to a free Lonely Grey Couch gig in the Crypt at Bedfords. This was the second time i've been in that little place this week, I'm starting to warm to it as a venue. Basically it looks like it's been lifted directly out of an Edgar Allan Poe short story. I'm not too sure on the architectural lingo for the style of brick work in there but I'd describe it as the kind of place you would expect King Arthur to store his beer. Either way it sounds like an unusual place for a gig and you know what it is. Lonely Grey Couch's thumping mix of rock, punk and ska all stuck together with intricate vocal harmonizing is juxtaposed by the sparkling laminate floor and stylish tables. It's like have a bar gig in Costa. Lonely Grey Couch we're really tight as ever but middway through their set I realized I was stumbling around a little. I looked down at my drink, the barmaid had recommend me a Bedford Spider which turned out to be 8 different types of alcohol in one concoction and it was also cheap. At a place like Bedfords you expect to pay over £3 per pint so £3.50 for a double of anything is amazing, almost too amazing. Turns out the barmaid had taken a shine to me and was giving me double for the price of singles. It might have been my sob story of being broke or my friend Jones singing 'When A Man Loves A Women' by Percy Sledge, much to the annoyance of his girlfriend. Either way I was getting cheap drinks and when the spiders ran out the vodkas went down and by the time Killamanjambo took the stage me, James and Jones were guerilla crowd surfing Ian into the crowd of bouncing hippies.
This brings up a couple of things. First of all my dislike for hippies, it isn't because they smell or the way they dress it's just their general demeanor of how they think they're pretty awesome and anyone else is incapable of experiencing anything on their level, man. For a bunch of free loving spiritual pacifists they are pretty fucking elitist and beyond that they are just so fucking dull. I don't like weed at the best of times but I hate people who smoke it and claim some kind of spiritual enlightenment even more. In fact I hate anyone who takes drugs and claims it as a spiritual awakening, pill heads are really bad for this to. The fact is there is nothing spiritual about taking drugs and if there is then it's a sad reflection on our immediate gratification culture. I mean meditation, yoga, these things are somewhat spiritual, popping a white dove and listening to house till seven in the morning is about as spiritual as a McDonalds drive through. Of course it feels spiritual if you define spiritual as a change in the normal function of your body but you're not affecting your soul. These things are happening because you took some chemicals. Like a Big Mac will perhaps make you happy for a short time so to most drugs are an instant kick which will dissipate fairly quickly, the difference between most people who do/have done drugs is those who see it for what it really is, a breif moment of escapism from your normal reality and those who see it as a whole life changing epiphany and actually put faith and belief into chemicals. This is why hippies are generally dull all they really talk about it their drug experiences, their warped world view or make you listen to some god awful music or drink their shitty herbal tea or spin fucking poy around your face or think they are in the fucking circus or be in front of you in a crowd and you get your face rammed into their fucking dreadlocks or try to hug and kiss you at festivals for no reason or annoy you so much you write rambling blogs about your dislike for them or arrgh! I hate hippies.
Anyway Killamanjambo were actually fairly good despite my slightly embarrassing drunkeness at this stage. An old friend of mine called Bramley turned out to be their trumpet player which was a pleasent surprise because the guy is awesome. In fact we were briefly in a ska-core band together about four years ago, I still have our demo somewhere...
This is where the night begins to get a little hazy. All my friends were sitting outside and I'd decided the barmaid was deeply deeply infatuated with me so I was trying to work out excuses to go back inside despite the fact the bands had finished. Eventually I just went for it and stumbled back into the Crypt. It was empty pretty much and there was no sign of my cheap drink barmaid which looking back was a blessing that could have ended in an embarrassingly slurred and probably sleazy attempt to cop off with her. Something along the lines of 'oh hey you gave me cheap drinks....you're pretty....I would have sex with you....where are you going? ow, I see.' Looking back I'm glad we left and went to the Wildman.
It was here I started regretting my decision to save money at Bedfords and not drink beer because the house whiskey doubles at the Wildman are cheap but taste like some squeezed out some manky trainers into the glass. James came up with the idea of doing suicide slammers which involved snorting a line of salt, taking a shot of tequila and dripping the lemon into your eye. From what I remember we snorted the salt and all fell about holding our noses. Which put an end to that scheme. For some reason there were two girls sitting with us and I tried to get a conversation going with one of them but in a fairly drunken state by this point an argument ensued when she asked what was on my arm and I said a tattoo. She said I was being patronizing, I said that was a big word for a twat, looking back this was mainly my fault for being a shithead. I apologized to her profusely shortly after. Soon after this we made the bizarre and uninfromed decision to go to Franks Bar.
I had never been to Franks before but as we sloshed in me and james clearly drunk beyond all help accompanied by James girlfriend Sian and my non drinking friend Ian we were hit by the smell of fresh bread, the sound of soft jazz and the hum of quiet deep conversation. We were in the wrong place. We collaspsed at a table in the back of the upstairs bit and wondered how we got drinks if it was table service. At that point a girl with curly black hair who I recognized from somewhere appeared next to the table. She was surprisingly smiley and chatty as James took far too long to order olives and whiskey. I had just accidently widthdrawn £20 so to celebrate I brought a double Sailor Jerry. It was all going fine until James was released for a cigarette. Outside the drunk James came up against another drunk man in a cream blazer. This didn't go well. James accused the man of wearing a cream blazer, the man accused James of having never been to H&M, James then questioned if the man was some sort of wanker, the man then inquired if James had ever washed. This to-ing and fro-ing lasted all of five minutes as I laughed and smoked. Then the bouncer came over concerned that a man in a cream blazer and a stumbling guy in skateshorts might have the most brutal punch-up Norfolk has ever seen. Shortly after this James went to the toilet, 3 minutes later I got phone call off him saying he had been kicked out of the bar for trying to destroy a gate. We decided it was time to move on.
I'll finish this long winded account tomorrow. Plus why I cycled 30miles today.

Contemplate This On Your Keyboard of Woe.

Today I've been packing up my stuff so I can move out early tomorrow morning. I've reached that stage in the process where my room is awfully sparse yet somehow still cluttered. Mainly with horrid tissues, empty fag boxes, disused record sleeves, about a million thumb tacks and perhaps most strangely of all a foam hand with the word slap on it. I don't like moving generally and this time is even worse as I'm not sure when the next time I'll be able to move into my own place will be. I'm going to be back in this house within the week but it's quite sad to see my room in just few short house reduced to just a room. Of course within a few weeks someone else will have shuffled in and made this their room, homes a funny old thing really. I like to think of it of more than just a few walls seperated from the outside world by a door I have the key for but that's what it is. Brick mortar and shelter.
Anyway while I sit here in my little bit of crap deprived of my personal effects I want to do a little entry about politics and mainly people singing about politics. Here are a list of a few good political song writers: Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, Joe Strummer, Billy Bragg (occasionally) Bob Marley, The Broadways, Percy Shelley, Jarvis Cocker, Crass, Sage Francis, Against Me! (up until recently, obviously, duh). Now obviously I count astute social observation as part of political songwriting. Here is a list of people who sing about politics who are awful at it: Anti-Flag, Billy Joel, any metal band ever, most 3rd or 4th wave British ska/punk bands (including the filaments), Coldplay, Phil Collins, Leftover Crack, Green Day you get the idea. Basically anyone who is overly 'mainstream' or overly 'fuck the pigs' as it were. My personal favourite 'political' band is Dillinger Four. Lyrically they are without peers, their simple turn of phrase can smash a nail on the head from the other side of the planet. But they don't preach or overstate themselves as a political band, their schtick isn't to be overly hyped on slogan based sing-a-longs (see anti-flag) of course there are a lot of sing a longs but they leave the kind of teenage 'urgh the government is awfu I hope they all get shot LLOOLLOLL!!11!!' Thinking far behind. This is what turned me on to them so much when I was a kid, they were funny and smart and rocked dicks to boot. I had the lyrics from "New Punk Fashions For The Spring Formal" cellotaped to the back of my school planner and everyday I would read the final verse with the line 'I'd love to sneer at the camera for the revolution but I just can't afford the fucking costume' and look around at all my friends who were into Metallica or Biffy Clyro and think to myself, hey fuck you, your outlook is kind of shitty, I mean guitar solos are awesome but I've got something that actually makes me think. That was awesome. That's really the power of political song writing. I remember the first time I heard the end of SpreeWheels on a Wheelchair by D4 on the rock against Bush compilation, sandwiched between shitty bands singing shit tacky political songs there was this final verse:
WE'RE THE LAND OF THE FREE TRIAL MEMBERSHIP TO CRAP
WHERE ADULTS CAN'T FIND WORLD POWERS ON A MAP
WHERE LEADERS RUN FREE WITH ABSCONDED POWER
WHERE A FLAG COSTS MORE THAN YOU MAKE IN AN HOUR
WHERE I STAND WITH SO MANY BUT WE'RE TOLD WE'RE ALONE
WHERE I WORK FOR A LIVING BUT I NEVER FEEL AT HOME

I still get tingles when I listen to that, it summed up exactly what I wanted to say about America, more so then some guy whining 'turncoat, liar, thief, criminal with protection of the laaaww' jeez. People like to make fun of bands for trying to be political but it's a hard thing to do well without sounding like an ignorant fool. Few people accomplish it really, it takes real songwriting skill. To sum up a point of view or argument with three chords and a few lines is tough, really tough, especially when broad generalizing statments make you seem inarticulate and reactionary or worst of all boring. Hell I could rant on and on about this all day but I've got packing to do!

James out.

BrokeInCider.

It was my friend Luke who one fateful winters night cajoled me over facebook chat to simply type in Brokencyde into youtube and tell him my thoughts. If you haven't heard of Brokencyde you are too old to care about any of this so just go on living this doesn't concern you. As for the rest of us between the ages of about 17 and 27 this is very much our problem, how did we let this happen!? This is our watch, were meant to be stopping this kind of thing! Never mind fucking global warming or over fishing or the gazillion other really really important things we should be filling our time with this should for the moment be our number one priority. I know we can't just blame ourselves but did we stop believing in everything so much that we thought it would go without consequence. Did we become so overly introverted and nihilistic that we didn't notice what was happening beneath our very noses? Firstly lets look at how it happened and then we shall figure out why and then what we can do about it.


What seems to have happened here is someone found a dusty old Motley Crew record languishing in their parents attic and borrowed their older brothers vinyl player to play it. Now Motley Crew were a great old laugh in the 80's, snorting columbia dry, banging girls and generally being irreverent rock n roll bad boys. It was the 80's that's cool and all, greed is good, mass consumption, MTV, blah blah blah. Great. If the popular line of thought is to be believed then at around 11:59pm December 31st 1989 Nirvana came along and took a giant flannel coloured dump all over that. Then I don't know Eddie Vedder kicked Nikki Sixx cock off with his Doc Martins or something. I'm not a music historian, whatever the 90's happened, it was great, Hanson showed us all the true meaning of rock n roll, Dawsons Creek showed us it was ok to cry and in the most punk move of the decade Prince became a symbol that looked like alien cooking utensil. Blinding.


The of course we had the whole 'emo' thing come around Dashboard Confessional, Jimmy Eat World, Saves The Day, etc etc leading millions to complain more about emo than emo complained about itself. Even so at last count there were over 649 million solo white boys with acoustic guitars kicking out the G, C, D on myspace. Looking back there really wasn't that much wrong with this, I mean it wasn't exactly awesome but it wasn't exactly questioning my belief in humanity and although it has taken me many years to be able to admit it Brand New were a really good band who I secretly listened to at the time.


Of course while the whole mass market emo thing was exploding and even throughout the 90's the face of hip--hop was changing. Now I don't know much about hip-hop but I know N.W.A and Public Enemy were really awesome, had a social conscious and made a real impact. Somewhere a long the way this took a back seat to a rather skewed view of both poverty and wealth somehow co-habiting one person. I've never been able to quite get my head around why some rappers seem so proud to wear audaciously grotesque jewelery, make such obvious and cheap caricatures of women and generally act like neolithic barbarians while still claiming some kind of artistic entitlement because they are 'from the streets.' Maybe that's why I don't listen to mainstream hip-hop too much. Of course really it's all synthetic aspirationalism that sells the fantasy of having lots of power and money, hip hop at it's worst is the most soulless capitalist circle jerk there ever was. The irony of it is that the poverty they are supposedly making reference to is a direct result of a capitalist society. But the feverish individualism adhered to by the mainstream rap artists plays into this system and seems self defeating. just a thought.


Anyway emo came to an gradual end by really being a victim of it's own success, on one side of the coin you have My Chemical Romance who are like Motley Crew playing Hanson songs and Bring Me The Horizon who are like an overweight cat being anally raped by a hippo. So finally we come to Brokencyde, what I presume was some guy in a record label did was say 'hey, you know kids are big into this nonsensical bling, bitches, hoes thing and they also like the whole flippy haired tattoo'd guy screaming, lets but them together and make some money.' Which in fairness is there job and so the spunked about Brokencyde.


Lets pretend for a minute that Brokencyde have some actual qualities as far musicians and artists. For a start I like how you can't really figure out if they are taking themselves seriously or if they even have souls. I mean that's a fun thing to do, I find that interesting, figuring out if people are indeed demons sent directly from hell to taunt humanity. Dane Cook for example. Hey you never know, the guitarist could be a reincarnation of Hitler! Secondly they have a great sense of irony, calling their record 'I'm not a fan, but the kids like it' some label intern is patting their back real hard over that one. All their songs revolve around the premis of getting drunk and sleeping with lots of girls, basically a 14 year olds wet dream but at it's heart it's just weird. It's a very very odd thing to have been invented. They have these lyrics that don't make any sense, a obvious marketing stratergy directed a younger teens and rip off the old thrash hardcore type graphics if they were drawn by teletubbies. It all kid of leads to them looking like a Scandinavian euro-pop band. They sound a bit like a euro-pop band to, like Aqua meets slayer. You see how much fun it is to poke fun at this, this is what they want you to do. I could go on all day but I want to try and be serious about this. ahem.


This really is what my major point is, I mean it's great to be sarcastic and try to offend as many people as possible while your young but so long as when you do it you're doing it for the right reasons. There's nothing right about Brokencydes music, their attitudes or their aesthetic style, there is nothing new or fresh, we aren't going to look back in twenty years time and think Brokencyde were a ground breaking moment for music. I'd like to use the example of The Clash here, I'm sure back in the late seventies people were saying exactly of I was saying about them but at least The Clash had something to say, which is what made them so important to music as a whole. Of course that isn't what Brokencyde want, they just want all the money, yo. The thing is it's moronic lowest common denominator drivel about nothingness, it's a vapid cassum which reflects perhaps the aspirations of people today. I'm waxing lyrical here but if Brokencyde have 39 million plays on myspace there clearly are people relating to this music and the fact is while grunge, nu-metal, emo or whatever other flash in the pan musical fad is popular for the next couple of years, could stand up and at least have a microcosm of talent and integrity not matter how far Brokencyde (and the million other bands who will no doubt follow them) stick their tongues into their cheeks it's all really there just to hide the fact that they don't have anything to say or offer anyone other than they are making someone somewhere a lot of money. If the people who listen to Brokencyde choose not to see this or simply don't care then thats their problem and even as I write this I sound old and moaning about the kids and their music, like I'm not in on the joke. I get the joke and I'm bent out of shape about it because it's just lame. It's kind of how I feel about skins and most youth based things these days, it seems that they are just forced a unsubtle image of sex and drugs and beer and sex and a life which was once unattainable fantasy (like Motley Crew) is now shown on their suburban doorsteps. Where's the fucking chance to grow up questioning these things and being nervous and scared and unsure about everything, god knows my teenage years were fucking hard enough without some twat in a neon tshirt telling me he's having sex every minute of every day and I should be to and if I was cool I would be. Fuck that. So what can we do about it?


Well not a lot really, I feel like we as a generation of people fucked up left right and centre, we were too interested in myspace and making stupid acroynms, lol, and being brootal or listening to crappy hip-hop, I think this is the result of our vanity, our self obsession, our increased isolation from the real world. Either that or sex sells, things that piss off your parents are awesome and boyz in neon shirtz r lyk sooo cute!!! When really this is all nothing new deep down and that is probably the most depressing thing about it.

So Long, It's Been Good To Know You (now sing that in an abortion clinic)

I'm a sweaty person this afternoon, took a quick bike ride to campus to settle some bills which went swimmingly thanks for asking. Just had a brutally long song writing session and belted out two new ones which I'm immensely happy with, I'm hoping to recruit some old friends back in Maidstone to play them with them and who knows where that will lead. Probably no where as these things so often do. I'm also in talks with some friends up in Norwich to get a female fronted No Idea style punky poppy rock n rolling band on the go. Now this is exciting it's with my good friend and favourite drinking buddy Ryan Jones, Lucy from the ball tingingly awesome Mustard City Rockers and Ellen who plays the organ in the equally delightful Slim Limbs so hopefully I'll be around in Norwich enough over the next few months to get it off the ground because it has the potential to be the greatest thing ever to happen to music or the world ever. I should really be in London tonight seeing Mischeif Brew, the aforementioned Mustard City Rockers and my favourite band in the UK Apologies I Have None but unfortunately I have no money or energy to get to London and get the night bus home so I'm all out of luck! Instead I'm going to go and meet my friend John Power Up for a few drinks in the Eaton Cottage which will no doubt be a delightful affair. Just one a quick side note even if you aren't into punk rock that much check out Apologies because if you like music you'll like them, they truly are absolutely fantastic and if there is any justice in the world they will keep getting bigger and bigger and bigger until they explode like a supernova of greatness. I heard a rumour they will be at the fest which would no doubt lead to a memorable night. Speaking of the fest tickets gone on sale on the 1st so I have to get a job or some money before that. My entire goal for the next few months is just to get to Gainesville with some of my best friends and see some of my favourite bands and have the time of my ruddy life all over again.


As for last night Project Multivitimin opened and they were probably one of the worst ska bands I've ever seen and I've seen some really fucking awful ska bands. I used to love the heavier side of ska I grew up on Capdown, Lightyear, No Comply and the like but these guys were the awful shitty side of the ska coin. The bassist had no rhythm and played some of the most basic two note riffs i've ever heard. Over the top of this was the completely unnecessary inclusion of uninspired trumpet riffs and a singer who, while not being completely without talent, was so passionless it sounded like he was reading his mothers eulogy. Still there were loads of kids there to see them so fair play if that's what they're into.


Next up was a guy called Peter who also calls himself Dry The River. This guy has some serious talent but unfortunately wasn't my cup of tea. He had a definite Thom Yorke kind of vibe going on and pulled it off very well. For me though I found his lyrics a little contrived and they relied too heavily on cliched or obvious metaphors such as 'you opened like a door' etc etc. On the plus side his voice was beautiful and the guitar playing was innovative not mention his nervous yet endearing persona which was charming yet quiet. I respect what he was playing despite not really being that into it.


Finally Matt Reynolds jumped on stage (read floor) almost directly after Dry The River. So fast in fact that I had to drop my cig and run indoors to catch the start. As I mentioned yesterday I've been seeing Matt Reynolds in various bands since I was about 16 and have never had the obsession over him that some people have. Tonight though he finally really really impressed me and I would now go as far as to call myself a fan. His strength lies in his ability to work the crowd into the performance, there is a muted sense of inclusion between him and the audience. It's far from a kind of grab the mic and sing a long affair it's more an atmosphere that he creates where you are completely focused upon every chord without even realizing. The only hindrance to this was two drunk guys who had stumbled in from bar upstairs and were having having a loud conversation about the pros and cons of buying a Ford Focus, they then started heckling for Matt to play dueling banjos, which much to their surprise and delight he did. After that they kind of simmered down, I think they may have even brought a CD. Which is kind of an example of how enjoyable Matt was, I certainly left with a satisfied smile on my face. Tonight though was singed with sadness as it was Ian Perry's last ever gig and therefore the last ever Power Up promotions gig. I lived with Ian in a shitty house on Dereham road a few years ago and I can honestly say if it wasn't for him I wouldn't have seen so many amazing bands, had some amazing times and not done the washing up for a year. So cheers to you Ian even though you are straight edge, good luck in Bournemouth!
After the gig Matt Reynolds and Dry The River came back to our place to bed down for the night, we had a few quiet whiskeys, talked about deal or no deal watch screenwipes and went to bed. All in all a grand evening. This morning though was sad as my friend Matt Foreman who had been staying with me left to go to Worchester to hang out with a friend for a few days. it was a sad goodbye and I'll miss my little Canadian friend as much as he'll miss Monday nights at the Wildman. Right that's all for today. peace.

Isn't it ironic how dirty you get cleaning?

It's tueday and someone outside is having a BBQ. I can tell this because the smell of spitting burgers in wafting in through the window and I can hear them having BBQ style conversations about is it done yet and how john always has to be the one cooking at all time. John sounds like an arse, he's probably wearing an apron and touching kids when no one is looking. Not that I'm spiteful.

So Matt has been staying with me for a few days which has been great, we played a lot of Madden 2004 on the now somewhat retro xbox and made our friend kerrie make us tea at all hours. It was like a little family unit in the filth of my lounge. (we cleaned the lounge today, I found my key, matt found about four lighters and both our noses discovered new and intoxicating smells) It's been a good final week of university all in all. Went to see Crazy Arm and Mustard City Rockers last night which was a little subdued on account of the monsoon which swept through Norwich yesterday. Still Crazy Arm brought the rock, Mustard City brought the Norfolk equivalent, it was quite the steaming musical stew. About to go and see Matthew Reynolds play some songs in the Crypt @ Bedfords which will no doubt leave me underwhelemed yet happy as he has done since I was 16 years old wearing skate shorts and watching Howards Alias. Shit i'm still wearing skateshorts.